Forsake The Solid Ground
by Yahtzee
Summary: When a woman from Jean-Luc Picard's past arrives on the Enterprise with her daughter, conceived while she was a crewmember aboard the Stargazer, long-held secrets can be concealed no longer. Amid a medical crisis that has the ship under quarantine, Beverly tries to help Jean-Luc face what he's trying to hide - and inadvertently brings the walls between them tumbling down.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

_Captain's Log, Stardate 44182.5. The Enterprise has been tasked with providing assistance to the planet Hasolon IV, which is currently undergoing severe seismic activity. We have returned to Starbase 133 in order to load tectonic stabilizers which may help to prevent further earthquakes and restore geological activity to normal levels. In addition, we will be transporting a team of Starfleet's top geologists, who will carry out the in-depth work on Hasolon. _

No Starfleet regulation demanded that the captain of a starship be present to meet visiting specialists upon their arrival in the transporter room. Yet Jean-Luc Picard made time for this task whenever he could. As he walked through the corridors of the _Enterprise_, he mused that in another life – one not so terribly different from the life he now led – he might well have become a scientist or historian. Conversations with scholars at the top of their fields allowed him a brief glimpse into other minds, other paths. It fed his curiosity, and therefore his soul.

One of the great twentieth-century Earth authors, Jorge Luis Borges, had written_, I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library._ Jean-Luc liked that quote. He believed in no afterlife, but the thought of an eternity spent learning … it made him understand the appeal of immortality.

"Jean-Luc?"

He turned to see Beverly Crusher walking up behind him – distinct from the other crewmembers around them with her coppery hair and long blue coat. This was her usual uniform, her usual smile; to anyone who did not know her as well as Jean-Luc did, she no doubt looked precisely like she did any other day.

But she did not regularly call him by his first name while they were in the presence of the crew. And he could see the hesitation in her eyes – the sense of uncertainty that had tugged at her ever since the incident with the warp bubble that had very nearly cost Beverly her life.

_How terrifying it must have been_, Jean-Luc thought, not for the first time. _To have the entire universe shrinking around you, blotting out everyone you had ever known or loved. _Perhaps she was merely walking the ship to enjoy once again being in an infinite universe rather than one smaller than the saucer section.

He said, "Beverly. What brings you here this time of day? I hope you're not tracking me down for more diagnostics."

There. He had joked about it – the need to have his body scoured by endless scans, searching for any sign of nanites or other microtechnology that might have been left behind by the Borg. He'd acted as if it were any other test, on any other day. As if he weren't haunted by the idea of that evil lurking within him, waiting to hatch …

"Actually, I decided I'd like to meet the geology team beaming in from the Starbase," Beverly replied as she fell into step beside him.

"Really? I hadn't thought you had much of an interest in geology."

She gave him a sidelong smile – an expression of hers that had never failed to warm him inside, not once in all these years. "You know full well why I want to meet the team – or its leader, anyway. Why didn't you tell me about her yourself?"

"You're a step ahead of me. I've not yet had time to review the personnel logs." Which was one reason he meant to get to Transporter Room Three early – it would give him a moment to call up the relevant files. Reviewing the latest intel on the Romulan movements near the Neutral Zone had been his first priority, but now he found himself caught up short.

"You don't even know, hmm? Not like you to fall behind," she teased as the doors swished open for them to enter the transporter room. From behind his duty station, Chief O'Brien gave them a quick nod.

Jean-Luc had his chance to review records on the nearest screen, but decided not to. Beverly was enjoying knowing more than he did. Might as well let her play. "Do I get a hint?"

"Let's just say – " Her smile softened. In her eyes he could see her vulnerability, and her knowledge of his own. "Maybe it would do us both good to talk over old times."

He raised one eyebrow and turned to O'Brien. "Is the team ready?"

O'Brien nodded. "Awaiting your word, Captain."

"Energize."

The shimmer in the air, the silvery sound of molecular reconstruction – and then six Starfleet officers materialized before his eyes. Even before she had become fully solid – while she was still no more than a flicker in the air – Jean-Luc recognized Sun Xia.

And the heaviness in his gut hit him so hard that he could hardly think.

For only a moment. No more. Jean-Luc Picard was not a man easily disarmed by circumstance. He reminded himself, _You were friends, then. On some levels, you still are. Act like it._

"Captain Picard," Xia said as she stepped off the platform. If she felt any trepidation at seeing him again, there was no sign of it on her face. Yet her tone was – even. Careful.

"Commander Sun, now, I see." As they clasped hands – something more than a handshake, but far less than an embrace – he was acutely aware of Beverly standing close, observing all.

Slowly Xia began to smile. "I was going to ask if you missed our days on the _Stargazer_ as much as I do, but that's ridiculous. Nothing can possibly match being captain of the _Enterprise_."

"But a captain's first command and first crew are always irreplaceable, and in some way always a part of him." He felt as if he were getting his feet under him again, or could, if Beverly would refrain from speaking just a few moments longer. "You're leading the scientific team for Hasolon IV? Please, introduce me to your fellow officers."

Then there was the usual patter of names and ranks, which his methodical mind slotted into place: _Commander T'Sara, Lieutenant Commander Sung Gi Song, Lieutenant Commander Ngaire Mere_. He smiled politely, asked the correct questions, and thought he would actually be able to converse intelligently with them about their mission later.

Right now, however, he wanted out of this transporter room – or, more precisely, for Beverly not to be standing there, watching him and no doubt sensing the discomfort he was trying to hold inside.

As the rest of the team began to head to the cargo bays to oversee equipment transfers, Xia lingered. "You look well, Captain," she said. Her smile turned impish. "Or dare I go back to Jean-Luc?"

"Of course, Xia." And it did feel good to say her name again. The old anger had no place inside him any longer –

"I should introduce myself," Beverly said, stepping forward. "We met once, but so long ago I hardly remember, and you must have forgotten completely. I'm Dr. Beverly Crusher, CMO here on the Enterprise –"

"Jack's wife." Xia's face fell, but she rallied, taking the hand Beverly had offered her. "I don't know what to say – except that Jack was a good man. One of the best I've ever known. And I'm so sorry, so incredibly sorry."

Beverly shook her head. "It was a long time ago, but it's good to know Jack's remembered." There was a brief pause before she added, "Our son Wesley serves here on the Enterprise."

"Wesley? The same toddler I saw in his daddy's holos? A _Starfleet officer_?" Xia groaned. "When did we get so old?"

Jean-Luc couldn't decide whether he was relieved Xia had handled this reunion so smoothly, or whether he found it irritating as hell. He joked as well as he could: "Speak for yourself."

Xia opened her mouth in mock horror. She always had been playful – he remembered that now. "Not very gallant of you."

"Nor accurate," he said. "You haven't aged a day."

It wasn't mere flattery. Sun Xia had always been a lovely woman, but if anything, the past fifteen years had only ripened her beauty. When he'd first known her, a willowy young officer on her first-deep space assignment, he'd thought her striking. Now, the mere sight of her face seemed to fill the room. Her thick, shining, blue-black hair fell so long down her back that it verged on regulation limits; her oval face was dominated by dark, thick-lashed eyes. Surely no one could look away.

Except, of course, Beverly, who was looking straight at _him_.

Jean-Luc tugged at the front of his uniform jacket, physically and mentally straightening himself. "Well. No doubt you'll want to head to the cargo bay with the rest of your team."

"And if you have time while you're here, perhaps all of us can spend an evening together," Beverly interjected. "I'd love for Wesley to have the chance to talk about his father with someone else who knew him."

"Um, maybe," Xia replied absently. Her eyes remained locked on Jean-Luc's, and now he could see that her earlier good humor had been a projection – a way of making this moment easier. For some reason, however, she now felt they were past the point of ease. "I – I need to greet the rest of our party. A civilian."

"A family member?" He remembered something about this; although it was unusual for visiting specialists to bring their loved ones along, such arrangements could be made on a ship as large as the _Enterprise._

"Yes." Xia opened her mouth, as if she would have said more, but already Chief O'Brien was working at his panel, accepting the transporter signal from Starbase 133. She turned then to face the figure materializing on the pad, a woman –

\- no. A girl. Perhaps 14 years old, with her mother's shining hair and dark eyes. Yet the shock of recognition that hit Jean-Luc then had nothing to do with this child's resemblance to Sun Xia.

"Nicole." Xia held out her arms; her daughter, already a teenager, rolled her eyes as she submitted to the hug. "Did you pack all your things?"

"What would it matter if I didn't? Replicators could make it all over again." Nicole said so good-naturedly that it took the edge off her words. From her place in her mother's embrace, she said, "So, you're the famous Captain Picard. I've heard a lot about you."

How was he still smiling? How was he able to look down at this girl and pretend nothing was wrong? _For her sake_, he told himself, and was shocked to realize how true it was. "Welcome to the _Enterprise_, Nicole."

"I'll get her settled into her cabin," Xia said as she began shepherding Nicole toward the doors. Any pretense at Starfleet protocol had been abandoned. "We'll meet again at the mission briefing."

Jean-Luc simply nodded. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until the Suns walked into the corridor and the doors slid shut behind them.

Beverly turned toward him, the unspoken question written on her face. He refused to look her in the eye. "Not now, Doctor."

Surprisingly, she accepted this … at least, for the moment. With one nod, Beverly walked out and left Jean-Luc to stand in the transporter room with Chief O'Brien and the chaos swirling inside his own mind.

_She cannot be. _

_She can't. _

But all the denial in the world could not erase what he knew to be true, and had known since the first moment he'd seen Nicole's face.

Beverly Crusher was not a gossip. A certain amount of chatter was inevitable on a ship like this – even necessary, so the rivalries and relationships formed among the crew could be smoothly worked around. But beyond that, Beverly refused to go. She was a private person by nature, and preferred to allow others their privacy as well.

Sometimes she thought that was why she and Jean-Luc were such good friends. They shared so much, and yet they gave each other space and silence, too.

Yet maybe there had been more silence between them than she realized.

"Mom?" Wesley's voice brought her back to herself. He sat across the table from her, one fork buried in his breakfast omelet. "You drifted off into subspace again."

"Sorry. I don't know where my head is this morning." She managed a smile for him. "It's a treat, having you come over for breakfast. So I don't want to miss it."

"Your mind's on something else." The corner of his mouth quirked. "I bet I know what, too."

"Oh, really?" Beverly took a sip of coffee.

"I sat in on the engineering briefing about the plate tectonics project for Hasolon IV. Everything ran according to procedure, and Captain Picard acted normal, but – I know him well enough to tell he was uncomfortable. And it seems like Commander Sun was the reason why."

"There's no need to speculate."

"Nope, because it's obvious. They can't even look at each other, and she's, like, supernova hot."

"Wesley! Commander Sun is my age."

He shrugged, like, _can't help the facts_. "You know the captain way better than I do. Back when they served on the _Stargazer,_ they must have been – did the two of them have a –"

"Captain Picard has never mentioned her to me before," she said, as sternly as she could manage. "And his love life is none of our business."

"It isn't? News to me."

That made Beverly put down her coffee cup. "I beg your pardon?"

Wesley tried to act casual, but the act wouldn't have fooled a complete stranger, much less his mother. "Ever since they subdivided our quarters so I've got my own cabin – seems to me like Captain Picard comes over for breakfast a lot. I see him in the corridors sometimes, on his way here."

"There is nothing improper about two people having breakfast." But Beverly felt her cheeks warm.

"I'm just wondering how early he's going to start showing up for breakfast," Wesley said. The clear implication was_, say, the night before._

"Listen to me," she said. "There is nothing between me and Captain Picard. There never has been, even though we've known each other a very long time."

Wesley awkwardly toyed with his fork. "Mom, I realize you and the captain aren't, um, involved, but – are you seriously telling me nothing's going there? Because sometimes it seems like there is." He stared down at his plate. "A lot of the time, actually."

Beverly resisted a sigh. "Do you really want the answers to these questions?"

"Not in any detail," Wes said in a rush. At any other time, the horrified expression on his face would have made her laugh. "At all. Ever. But if … things are changing, I guess I'd like to know."

She stopped to carefully consider what she would say next. Wesley had become an adult, and a Starfleet cadet in his own right. He lived in his own quarters. He was still her son and always would be – but they had reached the point in life where she could no longer avoid his more uncomfortable questions with dodges like _because I'm your mother_. She and her son needed to begin forging an adult relationship.

Which meant admitting some of her vulnerabilities, and uncertainties.

"Jean-Luc and I …" Beverly folded her hands together and brought them to her chin as she struggled for the words. "It's complicated. We share a long history, and I suppose we're – drawn to one another."

"_No details_." Wes looked seasick.

She laughed despite herself. "There are no details to tell. The captain and I have chosen to remain friends. Pursuing anything more would be complicated, because of our positions on this ship." But that wasn't the real reason, and Wesley deserved to hear it. "Really, though, I think it has to do with your father."

"Dad?" This made Wesley frown in consternation. "You've dated other guys since Dad died."

"Naturally. As deeply as I mourn Jack, I never intended to live out the rest of my life alone. He would never have wanted that for me, just as I would've wanted him to move on if I'd been the one who died young." They'd never talked about it. Never had to. She and Jack hadn't needed words to understand each other. "But your father was the reason Captain Picard and I met. We both loved him. We both lost him. For all those years, Jean-Luc believed I blamed him for Jack's death. I let him go on believing that, because – because it helped me endure the grief I felt, knowing someone else was in just as much pain."

That was even more clearly than she'd ever been able to say this to Deanna, or even to herself. Wesley stared at her, obviously unsure what to do with her new candor. _Well, that makes two of us_, Beverly thought. She took a deep breath, clearing her head.

"We've gotten past all that now, thank goodness. Our past is in the past, and that's where it needs to stay. Besides, your dad was – the love of my life. The kind of love most people never find at all." Beverly leaned her head to one side, studying Wesley's face to find Jack's chin, his mouth. "Jean-Luc understands that as well as I do; he was there, after all. Jack's good friend and mine."

If she and Jean-Luc ever pursued a romance, Beverly knew she would in effect be asking Jean-Luc to accept he'd always be second-best in her heart. He deserved better. He deserved a love without limits.

Of course, there _were_ moments when Beverly wondered whether those limits would actually hold true, the moments when she and Jean-Luc shared a private joke, or leaned on each other in a crisis. Or even sometimes when he wore one of those loose, v-neck shirts that made her want to –

But loving Jean-Luc as deeply as she had loved Jack would feel like such a betrayal. Her husband had lost his life, all the decades and adventures he should have had; she would take nothing else from him, especially not her heart.

By now Wesley clearly was at a loss of what to say or do. Beverly didn't blame him. She might have confided too much too soon. More briskly, she concluded, "Both the captain and I are content with our relationship as friends. So I'm not going to snoop into his love life, present or past. That goes triple for you, young man."

"Don't worry. It's not like I'd say anything to the others." Wesley resumed his breakfast. "But if the captain and Commander Sun keep acting like that around each other – I won't have to say anything. Everybody will already know."

How many of those people would see Nicole, and learn the rest?

That question weighed on Beverly for the rest of their breakfast, and throughout her morning shift. Only routine medical complaints came her way – Ensign Pamuk's twisted ankle, Lieutenant Ruby's case of some mild alien flu. So her mind was free to wander.

Jean-Luc, a father? He'd always been so vehement about not wanting children, about not having any time for a family – but Beverly remembered how Jean-Luc had been the few times he'd visited home with Jack after Wesley's birth. No, he wasn't the type to sing to a baby or make silly faces. He had, however, held Wesley with care. He'd told stories about the constellations, the myths people believed in ancient times, and told them so well that Wes had been rapt with attention – this, at an age when her little boy had hardly been able to concentrate on a picture book. Once, the very last time Jack had invited him over during a shore leave, Jean-Luc had sat with Wesley folding paper airplanes, showing him how to bend the wings for lift. Those experiences, plus his firm but compassionate hand with junior officers, had told Beverly that Jean-Luc's paternal instinct might be rusty from lack of use, but as strong as any other man's. He simply didn't allow himself to acknowledge the value of things he'd given up.

Denial wasn't the worst coping mechanism, really.

But a daughter he'd never even known about? That could devastate him. If Jean-Luc _were _a parent, he would want to be deeply involved in his child's life. Both love and duty would demand that of him. Nicole had grown up half a galaxy away, with no more knowledge of her father than he had of her …

_You're jumping the gun_, Beverly reminded herself. _You don't know Nicole's his daughter. That's an assumption you're making, and it's one hell of a leap._

Yet when she remembered Jean-Luc's expression as he'd seen Xia for the first time – and then his utter shock when Nicole had materialized on the transporter pad – Beverly knew one thing for sure.

Jean-Luc was asking himself hard questions for which he had no answers.

So far.

"Dr. Crusher?" Nurse Ogawa called from sickbay. "We need you out here."

Beverly rushed out to see Lieutenant Kumari supported between two other security officers. One of them said to her, "Come on, Chamila, hang in there."

"I can't – " Kumari's voice slurred. "I can't seem to stand up."

"Get her on a biobed." Medical tricorder in hand, Beverly began to scan Kumari's vital signs. Her eyes widened as she took it in. Massive systemic failure, the sort of thing she'd expect to see in a patient in his 120s. Lieutenant Kumari had been in for a routine physical only two months before and had passed with flying colors. What could ignite such a collapse in a young, healthy woman?

On the next biobed, Lieutenant Ruby groaned. Nurse Ogawa turned to him to provide palliative care even as Beverly helped ease Kumari onto a bed of her own. But then Ogawa said, "Dr. Crusher. Ruby's vitals – "

Beverly turned, and her eyes widened. She would have expected him to be on the mend by now, but instead, his lifesigns had all dropped. Although alarms weren't yet going off, his readings were scary as hell … and far too similar to Lieutenant Kumari's.

The virus she'd detected in Ruby's blood had all the features of an influenza bug, but had that structure hidden something far more dangerous?

Quickly she turned to Kumari, scanning her blood. The tricorder blinked as it found that same virus, multiplying rapidly.

_But Ruby's in engineering. Kumari's in security. Their quarters are nowhere near each other's. That means there's probably another vector of infection. Or many vectors. _

"Computer?" Beverly said. "What percentage of the ship's civilian personnel reported in sick today?"

The mechanical voice replied, "_Twelve point eight percent_."

Far too high. Normal levels would be around two percent. "And what about the children? What percentage of the children on board were excused from class?"

"_Nineteen point one_."

Her eyes widened. Civilians and children took days off more readily than Starfleet officers did. Even now, crewmembers were struggling through fatigue and low-grade fevers, telling themselves they'd be fine after a good night's sleep … and spreading contagion around the ship.

Then the sickbay doors slid open again, and Nurse Ogawa gasped. Beverly turned from her patient to see Ensign Fuentes staggering toward them. His knees seemed to give out from under him, and Ogawa caught Fuentes just before he would have fallen to the deck.

In a few select instances, the authority of a starship's chief medical officer could supersede that of the captain. Only one shipboard alert was within her power alone. Beverly immediately pressed her hand to the nearest wall panel and spoke the word that would shut down every transporter pad, ground every shuttle and seal every single person on the _Enterprise_ inside.

"_Quarantine_."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

_Chief Medical Officer's Log, Stardate 44185.2. We have received word from Starbase 133 that they, too, are now under quarantine. Yet they have no further information about this virus than we do. Some unknown traveler brought it with him to a place where it could spread across the entire galaxy within weeks. Its symptoms seem to be no more than a common cold or flu for a few days, giving its victims plenty of time to remain ambulatory, and so infect others. The virus is as perfectly evolved as any I've ever seen. If it weren't attacking our crew so efficiently, I could almost admire it. _

"Well," Beverly said as she leaned against the glass wall outside her office, folding her arms across her chest, "I do have some good news."

"Please share it." Jean-Luc's smile was weary. His gaze drifted toward the crowded sickbay nearby, where so many of his crewmembers lay.

"While we still can't immunize anyone against this virus, we do know how to treat it. Essentially, the virus works by attacking our genetic structures. But I can reinforce and strengthen those structures for any person on board for whom I have adequate DNA samples, which is virtually everyone." It was standard operating procedure for every person on the crew, including civilian workers and officers' family members, to keep such samples on file in case new skin or organs needed to be generated in a hurry.

Jean-Luc nodded; his expression remained grave. "Yet we aren't celebrating."

"This thing infects nearly everyone it touches. The virus can make itself at home in virtually any humanoid species. Worf's immune, as are the Vulcans, and of course Data can function. However, if our current estimates of infectivity hold true, the majority of the crew has already been exposed. The majority of those exposed will fall ill, which means soon the sick will outnumber the people both healthy and informed enough to offer treatment." Beverly rubbed at her temple; a headache brewed behind her eyes. "Best-case scenario, enough of us stay healthy to keep going and stay on top of the situation."

"And the worst-case scenario, Doctor?"

She wished she didn't have to say this. "We could lose people simply because we don't have the resources to treat them."

"But we could train people now." Already Jean-Luc was looking through the problem to the solution. "Create holo-simulations, prepare equipment, make it possible for them to provide adequate care."

Beverly had already begun readying the cellular-regeneration tanks, but why hadn't she thought of the holo-simulations herself? "Yes. Absolutely. I'll get Doctor Selar on it right away."

He acknowledged this with a quick nod. "Could we request that Starfleet send a medical vessel to assist? One with a higher percentage of immune races aboard?"

"I'm afraid not. Virtually every humanoid race is susceptible. The Vulcan medical vessel _T'Ling_ could be of some assistance – but they're on the far side of the quadrant and couldn't reach us in less than two weeks. We won't be able to call in the cavalry on this one."

"Nor can we allow the geologists to beam down to Hasolon IV." He breathed out heavily. By now he leaned against the opposite wall, his body language mirroring her own. "We can, however, transport the equipment planetside. The science team may be able to provide assistance remotely."

"Worth a try," Beverly said, closing her eyes. By now her temples throbbed. She'd load up a hypospray in a second.

Jean-Luc's voice went lower, gentler. "How long have you been on duty?"

"About … ten hours, now."

"Time for a break, then."

"I can't take time off during an emergency."

"This emergency may be of some duration. The _Enterprise_ will need you even more tomorrow than it does today." He could sound so comforting. Sometimes, Beverly wished she could tune out everything but Jean-Luc's voice. "Pace yourself. I need you at your best."

She sighed. "There's a reason they send you in for the tough negotiations. You're good at getting what you want."

"Precisely," he said. She opened her eyes to see the ghost of a smile on his face. "If I can handle Romulan admirals and Cardassian guls, I might just be up to managing a chief medical officer."

Beverly would have argued the point further if her own good sense didn't agree with the captain. Why hadn't she thought of the holo-simulations? Because she was so exhausted she could hardly see straight, much less make cogent plans. "Okay, okay. I'll turn things over to Selar for a few hours."

Jean-Luc had to be nearly as tired as she was, yet he waited for her the entire time she instructed her staff and checked on a few last patients. They walked out together, side by side. As they headed toward the turbolift, he said, "I didn't see Wesley in Sickbay. I take it he's fine?"

"Yes, thank goodness. Otherwise I'd – " She let her voice trail off. "Is it unprofessional to admit I'd be as worried about my son as the rest of the crew put together?"

"Of course not. Merely human."

He spoke with his usual warmth, but by the last word Jean-Luc had straightened, his attention drawn by someone behind her. Beverly turned, and wasn't shocked to see Sun Xia standing there.

What did shock her was the expression on Xia's face. It had been a long time since a woman had looked at Beverly with that kind of naked jealousy – not mere rivalry, but actual pain. If Xia still felt so possessive of Jean-Luc after all this time, if the current of feeling between them remained so powerful, then the relationship they'd shared must have been significant, even more so than Beverly had guessed.

And perhaps something else still bound Xia to Jean-Luc.

Something, or someone.

To Jean-Luc's profound relief, Beverly's tact did not desert her. "I'll get to work on those holo-simulations first thing in the morning," she said briskly. "For now, I'm getting some rest. I suggest you do too, Captain."

"Doctor." He was unable to summon any other farewell. Beverly's departure was only a blur of blue in his peripheral vision. At no point did he look away from Xia.

Yet Xia watched Beverly go, studying her intently. As much as Jean-Luc had wished Beverly gone, once she'd vanished down the corridor, he wanted her back again. Because now he was alone with Xia, with no pressing duties to call him away, no other officers to demand his time. He could hide from this conversation no longer.

Jean-Luc pressed the panel for the turbolift – not because he had anywhere to go, but because it was the fastest way to talk with Xia in private. As soon as the lift arrived, and the doors swished shut around them, he said, "Hold."

Unsurprised, Xia sighed. "Here we go."

"Do I even need to ask the question?"

"Not if you already know the answer." Her dark eyes met his as she folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself. "And you do."

He'd been all but certain from the first moment he'd seen Nicole on the transporter pad. Yet hearing the confirmation pressed the breath from his lungs, made him angry and sad and … on one level, irrationally happy.

But he couldn't begin to handle matters on that level yet. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'd transferred off the _Stargazer_ before I even knew." She bit her lower lip, struggling for control. "Those days – I was so angry with you, and so hurt. I felt like I'd lost the only man I would ever really love. For a couple of months there, it was like I was lost inside my own head. Between the grief and the anger, and adjusting to my new position on Starbase 68, well – it took me a lot longer than it should have to realize I was pregnant."

The word had a weight to it that should have been absurd, given that Jean-Luc had already seen Nicole for himself. And yet it seemed to echo in the lift, within his own mind. _Pregnant. Xia was pregnant when she left the Stargazer._

Xia's hand stole across her stomach, perhaps an unconscious reaction to her memory of those days. "By then I was building an entirely different life for myself. I knew I couldn't regain what I'd lost, so I decided not to look back at all. Instead I looked forward." She laughed, a weak, strangled sound. "But the path forward brought me here."

Jean-Luc could hardly begin to sort through his thoughts, much less his emotions. But he knew how to cut through complexities to resolve the most important questions first. "Does Nicole know?"

"No. Of course she's asked questions about her father; any child would. But I've told her only that she was born just after a very confusing, painful time in my life."

He remembered Xia's final night aboard the _Stargazer_, when he'd gone to her quarters to try to come to some kind of peace between them before she transferred off the ship for good. Her face had been hot with tears as she sat on a chair across the room from him, unwilling to even meet his eyes.

Xia looked at him now, though, and in her he could see the memory of true joy. "I've also told Nicole that she saved me. When she came along – she was, _is_, the best thing in my life. I couldn't be sad any longer. Once I had my baby girl, I didn't need anyone else. The first time I held her, I knew it had all been worth it. Every bit of the anger and the guilt and the loss, every mistake we made – they brought Nicole to me. So no more regrets. And no more anger."

It took Jean-Luc the space of several breaths to be able to answer her in a steady voice. "You speak as if this were entirely a matter of the distant past. As though it no longer had any significance."

"It doesn't." Xia straightened. "For what it's worth, Jean-Luc, I forgave you a long time ago. Really there wasn't anything for me to forgive, though I couldn't see it back then. Did you ever forgive me? Did you even try?"

"This is not the time to ask me that question."

Her expression clouded; she'd been so open to him until this moment, but now he could see her closing down. "So are you going to keep me captive in this turbolift until I've apologized to your satisfaction?"

"Resume," Jean-Luc said, and it was the last word spoken in the lift until they reached her deck and Xia strode out. He stood between the doors, holding them open, as he watched her walk into her guest quarters at the far end of the corridor. At this distance he could just make out Xia's smile as she saw the daughter who had been waiting there for her all this time.

The captain of the _Enterprise_ slept poorly, and the next morning he breakfasted alone. Beverly would already be back in Sickbay. Even had she been available, he could hardly have faced her. Irrational though it was, Jean-Luc imagined that the next time Beverly looked at him, she would instantly glimpse the entire truth.

_Damn this virus_, he thought as he stared down at the Earl Grey that had gone cold in its cup. _Damn this geological mission, too. Nothing for me to think about, nothing for me to do. Not a distraction to be had. _Sometimes being a starship captain could be a bit like working as a glorified chauffeur. Jean-Luc welcomed the occasional respite, but at the moment he would have given much to be busy.

Then he reminded himself that while the_ Enterprise_ needed little in the way of command at present, she had a dire lack of nurses for the current medical crisis. Hopefully Beverly had set up the holo-simulators already. He could become acquainted with the procedure, begin by assisting the doctors and nurses on duty, and ready himself to handle future complications on his own should the need arise.

At least he felt well. The virus seemed to have passed him by for now.

As Jean-Luc made his way toward Sickbay, however, he found himself remembering how pale and tired Beverly had been the night before. Her head had been aching too; she only rubbed her temples like that when she felt terrible. Headaches could presage the flu, couldn't they?

Of course medical personnel would have promptly alerted the captain if the chief medical officer had collapsed. Nonetheless, Jean-Luc quickened his steps through the silvery corridors.

His reward was the sight of Beverly leaning over Keiko Ishikawa, pressing a cellular regenerator against her forehead. "Hold still," Beverly said, with the quiet yet indomitable firmness of any good doctor. "After another half-hour on this biobed, we can send you back to your quarters to heal. Luckily we caught the virus early in your case."

"Don't you worry about her," said Miles O'Brien, who was holding onto Keiko's hand as if she might otherwise float away. He smiled down at her as he added, "I'm going to take good care of you. Replicate the best chicken soup you ever had."

Keiko murmured, "I prefer veggie pho."

"Then pho you shall have, my darling."

Jean-Luc managed to avoid raising an eyebrow. He'd heard that Data had introduced Miles and Keiko some months ago but had assumed any android matchmaking would prove inept at best. Yet again, Data's talents surpassed his expectations.

"Captain," Beverly said as she caught sight of him. She didn't glance away from her patient long; her tricorder held most of her attention. "Good news – infection rates increased overnight, but at a lower rate than I'd projected. We might be able to keep our heads above water after all."

"Excellent. But we will of course continue with emergency training?"

She nodded. "We're holding the first holo-simulator session at oh-eight-thirty. Want me to go over the procedure before you do it in a group?"

"If possible." If he appeared to pick the task up especially quickly, the other crewmembers present would be encouraged to learn. At this point, fear threatened the _Enterprise_ as surely as the virus; his crew needed confidence in order to handle the delicate work to come. "Sickbay isn't as crowded as I would have anticipated."

Beverly's fingers flew over the nearest wall panel as she pulled up a new set of vital signs, glowing in yellow and blue light. "I'm sending most people back to their quarters as soon as possible. Once the regenerative process has begun, they can recover perfectly well in their own beds. We can reserve our attention for more serious cases." She jammed her fists in the pockets of her blue medical coat, blew air through her lips in frustration. "Because some cases aren't clearing up as quickly as I'd like."

"Do you think the virus is mutating into a more serious form?"

"It's not that. Sometimes the genetic damage caused by the virus sets off other reactions within the body. Pre-existing conditions that were dormant, even unnoticeable, become far more serious overnight."

If they wound up with dozens of people gravely ill with a wide range of problems, ones that couldn't be covered by a medical holo-simulation, how would the crew of the _Enterprise _manage to treat them all?

Jean-Luc had only begun considering that question when the Sickbay doors slid open again. When he glanced up to see who had walked in, the question vanished, along with everything else in his mind.

His entire world narrowed to the sight of Xia standing there, supporting her teenage daughter against one shoulder – and Nicole herself, flushed and weak.

Even as he hurried toward them, Nicole's knees buckled; Jean-Luc reached them just in time to help Xia lower her to the floor. Dazed with fever, Nicole simply stared dully ahead as Nurse Ogawa hastened to join them. She looked at Jean-Luc's face but did not see him.

That blankness was frightening, but worse by far were the tears in Xia's eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

_Captain's Personal Log: I should be relieved, given the latest findings from Sickbay; those of us who suffered from that odd Aldebaran virus two years ago have also proved immune to this latest contagion. Not only will I remain well enough to retain command, but we will also have sufficient healthy crewmembers to provide care to the others, and to maintain ordinary ship operations. Yet the people of Hasolon IV still lack the assistance they so desperately need – and I remain haunted by the ghosts of the past, ones I had thought exorcised long ago. _

Jean-Luc managed a smile for young Ini Okenedo as he pressed the hypospray to her arm. "There you go," he said, in what he hoped a small child would consider a reassuring voice. "You should only need one or two more treatments."

She nodded, mute with fright – more of him, he thought, than of her illness or the hypospray. Children aboard the _Enterprise_ tended to have one of two reactions towards the ship's captain: rapt adulation or abject terror. Jean-Luc found the adulation intensely awkward, but the terror he could usually do something about. He patted Ini's shoulder gently, and saw the tiniest smile appear on her face just before her father took her back in his arms.

Ten-Forward had been converted into a sort of tertiary Sickbay, now that both the primary and secondary ones were filled to capacity. Here, Jean-Luc and the other temporary medical officers worked with those patients whose condition remained stable, and who only needed to refresh the genetic-reinforcement procedure. Luckily, this proved to be the majority of those ill.

Jean-Luc worked at one of the tables by the front windows, next to Data, who paused between patients and turned toward him. "Captain, I have been considering the situation on Hasolon IV. Specifically, I believe I may have at least a partial solution to the problem of the quarantined scientists."

Although the Hasolonians had already received the tectonic stabilizers, their difficulties could not be resolved with equipment alone. Adjusting tectonic plates was tricky work even under ideal conditions; with constant earthquakes and increasing volcanic activity, Hasolon IV's situation was far from ideal. The scientists who remained healthy had provided what guidance they could from the _Enterprise_ – but the most vital and delicate work would require split-second adjustments. Precision analysis. The sorts of things that couldn't be taught in a few subspace conversations. Every bit of the specialists' experience and knowledge was required on-site. "What do you propose, Data?"

"We could link my neural networks to the remote-reality simulator previously utilized by Lieutenant Commander LaForge." Data's pale fingers worked at inhuman speed, assigning genetic samples to the respective patients in the room. "As an android, I cannot be infected by the virus, and therefore it is safe for me to leave the ship. If I were to beam down to Hasolon IV, and one of the geologists entered the simulator – "

"—it would be as if the geologist were on the surface of the planet herself," Jean-Luc said, the image coalescing in his mind. "You would literally act as the geologist's eyes and ears on Hasolon IV."

"I would in effect be acting as their entire body," Data said seriously. "No organs would be neglected."

"A figure of speech, Mr. Data." Slowly Jean-Luc began to nod. "You could only act for one specialist at a time, but one is far better than none. As a Vulcan, Commander T'Sara remains healthy, does she not?"

"Yes, sir. We could set up the simulation with the hour." Yet his golden eyes swept over the crowd of patients waiting in Ten-Forward, sitting in every chair and even on the floor. "However, I realize my assistance is also greatly needed here."

"Anyone can handle a hypospray," Jean-Luc said, glancing down at it ruefully. "As you can see. Whereas you and you alone can handle the simulation for Hasolon IV. Make it so."

After Data left to begin preparing the simulator, Jean-Luc gave T'Sara her new orders, tended to a few more patients, then handed his duties off to the next informal nursing "shift" – Ensign Sonia Gomez and Guinan. When he pressed the hypospray into Guinan's hand, her dark eyes met his for a few seconds longer than necessary; as ever, her special perception had picked up on the weight of the inner burdens he carried. Yet if she had seen a way through this complicated snarl of secrets, Guinan did not share it. Her enigmatic smile seemed sadder than usual.

Though that could have been Jean-Luc's mind playing tricks. His paranoia about being seen through – about all those old truths spilling out – it was ridiculous, and he knew it, but that did not make the feeling any easier to shake.

_Nicole's receiving treatment,_ he reminded himself. _The best of care. Soon she'll be recovered, and you can rationally decide what should come next. _

Except, of course, that he could not. Xia had made the all decisions until now, and surely he was obligated to honor her choices as Nicole's mother. The emotions stirred inside him when he saw the girl for the first time on the transporter pad – those were his to bear alone.

Yet when he had helped settle Nicole on the biobed, he'd looked down at her wan face and recognized the features there –

_Let it go_, Jean-Luc told himself as he walked down the corridor toward the computer lab where T'Sara and Data would even now be setting up the remote-reality simulator. _You cannot resolve this today, if ever. Regain your calm, or you'll wind up explaining the entire damned story to Deanna the next time she lays eyes on you._

Which he probably would anyway. But he wanted to choose the moment, rather than being immediately pounced upon by his all-too-insightful ship's counselor.

His communicator chirped. "Doctor Crusher to Captain Picard."

Jean-Luc took a deep breath. "Picard here."

"Captain, I'm afraid Sun Xia's daughter Nicole isn't responding well to treatment. Her condition is worsening, more rapidly than any of my other patients."

His gut tightened. "Why her, and no one else?"

"Because she's one of the only people on board for whom I have no intact genetic sample." Beverly sounded angry – at herself, Jean-Luc realized. "I should have made every visitor on board give a sample as soon as I realized we were dealing with a serious infectious agent."

"The true nature of the virus only revealed itself later, Doctor. And you had to deal with a great many patients in short order. Don't blame yourself." The reassurance was sincere, and yet empty, because Jean-Luc could hardly think about the words he was saying. No one but Nicole seemed to matter.

"Jean-Luc – " The hesitation in Beverly's voice would have been enough to tell him where this conversation was headed, if he hadn't suspected it already. "Sun Xia remains uninfected, so I tried working from her genetic sample to fill in the necessary DNA 'blanks' for her daughter. But … I need more."

You could bury the dead, but not secrets. Secrets clawed their way up from the grave. They demanded to be seen. They found the light.

"What is Nicole's current condition?" Jean-Luc asked.

"I've managed to stabilize her, more or less. But I'd be surprised if that lasts longer than a few hours."

He said, "Your shift ends at nineteen hundred hours, correct?" Less than two hours away.

"Yes – "

"Then I'll meet you in your quarters at the end of your shift, Doctor. Picard out."

He resumed walking toward the computer lab with renewed purpose. Data and T'Sara had to be nearly ready to begin by now, which meant Jean-Luc could once again act as a ship's captain. For the next two hours, at least, he would work on a problem that had a concrete solution. His team could stop the coming earthquakes before they even began.

Beverly spent the final hour of her shift balancing on the wire between sympathetic and angry.

_Jean-Luc knows what I need to help Nicole,_ she thought as she re-checked the girl's vital signs. _If he weren't her father, and he couldn't help her, he would have said so as soon as I made the situation clear. So why is he being so coy about this?_

Maybe "coy" wasn't the word. Diminishing his feelings wouldn't help her understand, nor help her to reach him. Jean-Luc Picard had chosen to sacrifice marriage and children for his career in Starfleet, and that sacrifice had cost him more than he often acknowledged. Learning that he had a daughter, one he hadn't even known until now – it must have been like having a bandage ripped off prematurely, reopening the wound.

Nor was Nicole's situation yet so dire that two hours would make a significant difference; she was getting no better, but, at least for the moment, not much worse.

And yet Beverly had expected more from Jean-Luc. He was a courageous man on every level, forthright, strong. She would've thought his response to her information about Nicole would have been to come straight to Sickbay, offering his DNA or whatever else it took to make his daughter well. If he didn't yet want to discuss his past with Xia, or the tumult of feelings about discovering his fatherhood, then they simply wouldn't have spoken about it. Surely Jean-Luc trusted her enough to realize she wouldn't force him into such an intensely intimate conversation. Yet he had insisted on waiting, and wanted to talk in her quarters before taking any action. Beverly could sympathize with his reluctance without condoning it.

"You're sure you're on top of everything?" she asked the latest temporary "nurse" on duty – namely Wes, whose past bout of Aldebaran flu had rendered him immune.

"Absolutely," Wesley promised. He had been working with the genetic samples so efficiently this afternoon that she'd remembered her old dreams of his following in her footsteps and becoming a doctor. Children had to choose their own paths – she knew that – but seeing him so at home at Sickbay made her wistful. He continued, "Anything Doctor Selar needs, I can help with. Well, almost anything. And I know who to page for the rest."

"Okay." Beverly put her hands on her son's shoulders – slightly higher than her own, now. He got his height from Jack. "Love you."

Wesley had finally reached the age where those words no longer embarrassed him. "Love you too, Mom."

She returned to her quarters, shucking her medical jacket. "Peppermint tea, hot." The steaming cup of tea solidified as she stretched her shoulders. Every muscle ached, and she longed to sleep. Yet she had to wait for Jean-Luc.

Such an intensely private man. His confidences were rare, and more valuable because of it. Certainly they'd never discussed his love life in any depth—for which she'd mostly been grateful. Although she remained content to leave their relationship as it stood, hearing about Jean-Luc with other women …

_Jealousy? You should be more mature than that by now._ She sighed at her own contrariness. Tonight, she would have to brace herself; if Jean-Luc finally opened up about his long-ago love for Sun Xia, she intended to listen. As his friend, she owed him that much.

How long would Jean-Luc take to come to her? Beverly gave him twenty minutes before she'd page him –

-but at that moment, her door chimed.

"Enter," she said as she took the tea in her hands.

Jean-Luc walked in, every step measured. She had expected some initial evasiveness from him, and yet his eyes met hers immediately. He looked even more stricken than she would have thought. Sympathy once again overtook disappointment, and she gestured to her sofa as she sat, inviting him next to her.

"How is Nicole?" he asked, without preamble.

"Still stable, for now." Beverly took a sip of her tea, then set it on the clear table in front of them. "But what I said before remains true. If I'm going to cure her, I have to put together a more complete genetic map than I can get from her mother alone. I need – _Nicole _needs her father."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was like watching a man readying himself for a field amputation, something Beverly had seen once on Arvada III and hoped never to see again. This was even more terrible for him than she had realized.

She reached for his hand at the moment he reached for hers. When their fingers intertwined, Jean-Luc sighed. "Beverly – "

"Just say it. I swear, you'll feel so much better once you've finally admitted it someone, or just to yourself."

"No, I won't." His dark eyes sought hers, searching for something she didn't understand.

She whispered, "Jean-Luc, please, talk to me."

"I am not Nicole's father." Jean-Luc's hand tightened around hers. "Jack is."

The words didn't make sense at first. It was as if the universal translator had stopped working at the moment Jean-Luc decided to start speaking Romulan, or Ferengi. Her mind refused to ascribe meaning to the syllables, instead turning them over like a cryptographer seeking the code within. "Jack," she repeated flatly.

Jean-Luc nodded.

She went numb – literally, as if her body no longer fully existed. _Shock,_ supplied the doctor side of her brain, the only part still functioning normally. "I don't – no. That can't be right."

"I'm afraid it's true."

"Xia lied to you. Of course. Maybe she wanted to convince you that you weren't Nicole's father, so you wouldn't try to establish a relationship – "

"I have never been romantically involved with Sun Xia." His words were clear and precise, even as his thumb rubbed gently along her wrist. "But she and Jack were – having an affair at the time of his death."

"You only have her word for that." Why was Xia lying? How could she be so cruel, making up lies when her daughter was sick? Beverly's mind tried to find an answer, so she could believe something, anything, other than the words now coming out of Jean-Luc's mouth.

"No. Jack told me about his relationship with Xia when it first began."

"… he told you?" _Why would Jack say such a thing? Why would Jack lie too_? By now she realized how absurd her thoughts sounded, but she felt as if she had been yanked into a parallel universe, one that looked like her reality turned inside out. Her thoughts made sense in the world where she belonged. In this one, she understood nothing. She was confused, ridiculous, behind.

Jean-Luc kept his voice low and even, like someone trying to approach a wounded animal. "I know how difficult this must be for you to hear."

"You don't know. You don't." Beverly pushed herself up from the couch and paced away from him. She didn't look out the window, or at Jean-Luc, or at anything really. In her mind she could only see Jack on that final, brief shore leave two months before he'd died. Always, she had treasured those memories – the last dinner at Rodolfo's with pasta and sweet white wine, the last time Jack had tucked Wesley into bed, the last night they'd spent making love. And yet … the visit hadn't seemed perfect at the time. She'd told herself then it was no more than warp lag and the inevitable temporary disconnect between people who'd been far apart for a while; never had it occurred to her to doubt Jack. To wonder if his mind and heart were with someone else. The thought had never even crossed her mind.

Even now, she couldn't fully believe. Something inside her stubbornly insisted, _no._

"Listen to me," Jean-Luc said from behind her, and his tone was firmer now. "The genetic material you need to save Nicole's life – might Wesley be able to provide that?"

For some reason, this fact snapped Beverly from shock into anguish. She clasped her hand to her mouth. "Oh, God. They have the same father. They share genetic information because they have the same father."

"It's worth trying, surely." By now Jean-Luc stood next to her, making no move. Waiting.

"Jack had a child with another woman. He had an affair." If she spoke the words, heard them in her own voice, maybe she could accept it. "You knew about it even then. You've always known."

"I've always known about him and Sun Xia, yes. But before yesterday, I never had any idea that Nicole existed."

Missions lasted so long. They'd never been stationed together after Wesley's birth; the time apart had been lonely. Maybe Jack had – a moment of weakness. One night when he forgot himself, and her. One hour.

But Jean-Luc had said_ an affair_. He and Jack had discussed this. That sounded like more than a night's mistake.

And now all those small silences and hesitations on Jack's final nights at home – the ones she'd all but forgotten in the years since – welled larger in her memory, blacking out the light, casting shadows large enough to conceal Sun Xia.

Her voice cracked as she asked, "Was he in love with her?"

Jean-Luc's expression provided the silent answer.

Beverly swallowed the tightness in her throat. "The way you reacted when you saw Xia again – I thought – "

"Xia and I did not part on the best of terms. She knew I disapproved of the affair, which had already strained our friendship – "

_His friend,_ Beverly thought, by now near nausea. _He's standing here and calling that woman his friend._

"—and she blamed me for Jack's death. Because of that, Xia transferred off the _Stargazer _almost immediately, before either of us could have known she was expecting Jack's child."

"That's why you assumed I blamed you for Jack's death." She laughed brokenly. "Because _she_ blamed you."

He paused, caught short. "I never considered that before. Perhaps."

Beverly felt as if the deck sloped out from under her and caught herself against the wall. Jean-Luc's hand closed around her upper arm, as if he could support her. She said, "While I was mourning my husband – mourning the years we wouldn't have together, the other children we might have had – she had Jack's baby inside her the whole time. On the day you brought him home to me. Even then."

"I'm so sorry," Jean-Luc repeated. "I hate having to tell you this."

She silenced him with a slap.

The sound of it echoed in her quarters; Jean-Luc stumbled back a step, more out of shock than the force of the blow, she thought. Obviously she hadn't hit him hard enough.

"You kept this secret from me for _fifteen years_." Beverly's voice rose with each word. Soon she would be screaming. Good. "You lied to me for fifteen years! And even now, you hate having to tell me the truth?"

"I meant … I hate hurting you."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have _conspired _with my husband and his lover while they screwed around behind my back!"

He held one hand to his reddened cheek, but stood his ground. "When should I have told you, then? At his funeral? When you and Wesley transferred onto the _Enterprise_?"

"You tried to block me from the position on the_ Enterprise_. Was that so you'd never have to face this?"

"No. Because right or wrong, I would_ not_ have told you, ever, unless circumstances made it absolutely necessary. Yet that is where we are." Jean-Luc's temper had begun to spark too, but already he was regaining his constant, damnable calm. Beverly wanted to shake it from him, to break him down as surely as he'd broken her. Instead she felt too weak to move.

As a doctor, she understood the mechanics of fainting; neurally mediated syncope was one of the body's natural reactions to the constricted blood vessels that could accompany severe emotional shock. The appropriate response was to lie down. Instead, Beverly stood there, trembling, on the verge of falling to the floor. She wanted to fall. She wanted Jean-Luc to see he'd hurt her that badly.

He said, "You haven't answered my question about Wesley. Could his genetic material potentially save Nicole?"

"Yes." It was as if someone else had answered him.

"Then you realize what we must do."

_I must save the daughter of this woman who betrayed me_, she thought. Then it hit her: _I must save Jack's daughter. _

Whatever else Nicole represented, she was the child of the man Beverly had loved.

It was as if the cry had slashed its way out of her throat. Tears welled in her eyes, spilled down her cheeks. Through the blur she saw Jean-Luc move toward her, but she backed away. "Don't," she managed to gasp through her sobs. "Don't come near me."

Never had she seen Jean-Luc so utterly at a loss as then, when he had no choice but to stand there and watch her weep. Finally he said, "Do you want me to talk to Wesley?"

_Of course not. I should be the one to do that_. This was what she wanted to tell him, because it was the truth. Learning about Nicole would hurt Wesley as much as it had hurt her, if not more. He needed her support now more than ever.

But she _couldn't _support Wes. She could hardly support herself on her own two legs. It was the final crushing blow, realizing that she could not respond as a mother should – not in time to react as a doctor should. Failure upon failure, lie upon lie. Beverly felt as if everything she'd ever been or loved lay around her, dashed to wreckage.

Wiping at her cheeks, she said, "Yes. Talk to Wesley. As long as you're finally telling the truth."

Jean-Luc grimaced, as though she'd struck him again. "Beverly – "

"Don't apologize. Don't make excuses. Just _get out_."

Somehow she held herself upright until he'd walked out. Then she slid down the wall and sank onto the floor, sobbing harder than she had since the day she'd received the communiqué telling her Jack was dead.

That had been Jean-Luc too.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four 

_Captain's Personal Log: Twice, now, I have spoken at Starfleet Academy, and each time cadets have asked me the greatest trials starship captains face. They expect me to tell them about galactic disasters, powerful adversaries, or epic battles. Yet I tell them that the hardest hours for any captain are those in which he can do nothing – when the solution to a problem is out of his hands, and he can only wait. _

_I also tell them that one of the principal challenges of command is dealing with a crew made up of intelligent, competent officers … who are also emotional, fallible human beings. A starship is a world in microcosm, after all. Rivalry, feuds, romances gone wrong, friendships torn apart: These may be more prosaic concerns than wars, rescue missions or supernovae, but they are every bit as much a part of life on board. And no amount of experience or command ability will ever help decipher the mysteries of the human heart. _

Despite their many differences, Jean-Luc Picard and Jack Crusher had been fast friends. They balanced each other – Jack the charming, impulsive one, Jean-Luc thoughtful and reserved. Only Jean-Luc realized that Jack's spirit and wit had cloaked a vein of pessimism, very nearly fatalism; only Jack had glimpsed that Jean-Luc's methodical caution moderated a level of optimism approaching faith. They always had varying perspectives to discuss, invariably with respect and often with fascination. They broadened each other's perspectives and interests. And since Jack's flawless service made Jean-Luc's captaincy of the _Stargazer _so much simpler and more enjoyable, Jean-Luc had always sought ways to help his friend just as much.

For Jack, he'd learnt to play three-dimensional chess. For Jack, he'd cultivated a taste for whisky rather than wine. For Jack, he'd nudged leave time and starbase choices to allow his science officer frequent rendezvous with a lovely young wife.

For Jack, Jean-Luc had pretended not to be drawn to Beverly, to value her conversation and intelligence while supposedly blind to her beauty and warmth. He had done everything in his power as both friend and commanding officer to support their marriage through Jack's career on the _Stargazer_.

And for Jack, Jean-Luc had kept his silence about an affair that should never have happened. Had tried to talk sense into the man, telling him that he shouldn't throw his marriage away for fleeting desire. Had lied to Beverly by omission, then and for all the years since. Had brought his dead body home.

Yet no task Jean-Luc had ever undertaken for Jack weighed as heavily as the hour in which he told Wesley the truth about Xia and Nicole.

Wesley sat on the low sofa in the captain's quarters. The quiet misery in his eyes stripped away all the maturity and rank he'd earned aboard the _Enterprise_, turning him into a boy again. "My dad was going to leave us?"

"No," Jean-Luc said. Jack had remained torn, unable to decide, until the very end, but his final choice would have inevitably been his wife and son. "He loved your mother deeply. Loved you. Had he not died when he did, he would eventually have ended his relationship with Sun Xia."

Wesley considered what had been said in depth, hands on his knees, before saying, "If Dad hadn't died, he would have learned Commander Sun was pregnant. That would've changed things."

"Certainly it would have complicated the situation. In the end, however, I believe his choice would have been the same." He kept his voice firm and steady; the same sympathy Beverly had required would make Wesley feel as if he were being condescended to. To handle this as an adult, Wes needed to be treated as one. "Never doubt your father's love for you, or for your mother."

"He fell in love with someone else too, though."

Jean-Luc breathed out heavily. "You've only ever served on a Galaxy-class vessel, Wesley. In the days before, when spouses were separated for months or even years at a time, fidelity was often more a goal than a reality. Loneliness, the stresses of service, the close bonds forged during service – they wreaked havoc in more than one marriage."

"Is that why you never got married?"

This earned Wesley a look. "Don't change the subject."

"I'm sorry. It's just – " Wesley raised his eyebrows as he glanced downward, breathed out hard. "This subject sucks."

"Agreed."

He remembered how he had left Beverly, pale and shaking, seemingly on the verge of collapse. She was a strong woman; she had faced death, capture and defeat without flinching. For this news to devastate her so completely, she must still have loved Jack Crusher as intensely as she had on the day he'd died.

_You fool_, Jean-Luc thought to the memory of Jack that lingered in his mind. _To have the devotion of a woman like that, and yet risk losing it. _

When he'd summoned Wesley to his quarters, Jean-Luc had prepared himself for a similar breakdown. Yet despite his obvious unhappiness, Wesley remained steady. "Mom took it hard, didn't she?"

"You must be strong for her, Wes."

"She still talks about Dad like he's in our lives. Sometimes she makes it sound as if he just – stepped out of the room or something, and he'll be right back." Wesley clearly struggled to find the right words. "For her, this is like she's back in that warp bubble, where parts of the universe kept vanishing all around her and nobody else remembered what had been lost. Because before my dad was dead, but now it seems like he never really existed at all. Not the way she thought he was."

The same thought had occurred to Jean-Luc, but hearing it from Wes made his spirits sink further. Beverly was a formidable woman—she would endure—but this would change her in a lasting sense. After Jack's death, he and Beverly had drifted apart for more than a decade; would a similar rift open now? She could always transfer away from the _Enterprise_. Any starship or starbase would be happy to have her, not to mention the Academy or Starfleet Medical…

Catching himself, Jean-Luc pushed such thoughts aside. His worries about his relationship with Beverly Crusher were his own to handle. For now, his focus had to remain on Wesley.

"The initial shock has been difficult," he said carefully, "but in time, I believe your mother will again know how much your father loved her. What happened between Jack and Xia was a mistake – one of the terrible mistakes we all make in life. Even the best of us sometimes lose our way. But what I want you to understand above all, what I hope your mother will soon remember, is that Jack was indeed one of the very best of us. His errors don't change that. They only make him human."

Wesley considered this, his gaze turned inward. When he looked up again, he asked a question Jean-Luc had not anticipated. "Did Dad really love Xia? Was she important to him?"

How easy it would be to call the affair a fling. To deny what he had seen between his science officer and the new chief geologist from nearly the first moment they'd met. But no partial truths would do. "I believe that your father cared for Xia very deeply."

"I figured," Wesley answered, and to Jean-Luc's surprise, the same emotional tie between Jack and Xia that had eviscerated Beverly seemed to comfort Wes. Perhaps it helped him to think that nothing less than powerful emotion could ever have made his father stray.

Jean-Luc took a seat across from Wesley. "How are you feeling?"

"Confused. Angry with my dad, and worried about Mom, but also – " Wesley took a deep breath. "I have a _sister_."

"Yes. You do." Xia and Nicole would soon leave the _Enterprise_, but this was no self-contained chapter in their lives to be opened and then shut. For Wesley, these revelations were only a beginning. "I confess, when I first saw Nicole and realized she was Jack Crusher's daughter – despite everything, I felt a moment of happiness at the thought that he lived on through her as well."

"It's weird," Wesley said. "I want to get to know her, but someday. Not now. Right now I can't even imagine what I'd say to her."

"Nicole has not yet learned the truth about her paternity. When she does, no doubt both of you will need some time before you're ready to have any sort of sibling relationship. But the day will come."

"I can't talk to Mom about that yet. She's not going to want to hear it."

"No. But you're a grown man. You'll enter the Academy as soon as the next available slot opens. Whatever relationship you have with Nicole in the future, you'll navigate on your own."

Wesley nodded. "I should go to Sickbay right away, shouldn't I?"

"Yes. Doctor Selar will be on duty and is aware of what needs to be done." Thank goodness they had a Vulcan physician on board, who would treat this emotionally complicated situation with pure detachment.

Yet Jean-Luc had expected Wesley to say he should go to his mother first. Instead, Wes had understood that Nicole's medical condition was the most urgent priority - which showed maturity, perspective and courage. He put one hand on Wesley's shoulder and smiled at the boy as best he could. Wesley simply nodded, then headed out toward Sickbay and his first duty.

As Jean-Luc watched him go, he thought, _You would be proud of your son, Jack. _

_I hope he's still proud of you too. _

Five hours after Jean-Luc had left her quarters, Beverly Crusher returned to Sickbay.

She had cried herself out within an hour and fallen asleep still in her uniform, from pure physical and emotional exhaustion. But she slept fitfully, and she had awful dreams. Not nightmares – those she could have borne – but dreams in which Jack walked into her quarters, told her he'd been alive all along, that Jean-Luc's story about Xia was just part of some secret plan to bring him back to her, and everything was all right now. In the dreams this explanation made sense. Beverly was so grateful to Jean-Luc for his cleverness, so delighted to be with her husband again. She awoke still remembering the feel of Jack's arms around her, the memory more powerful then than it had been in years. After the third round of these dreams, she swore, got up, and went back to work.

When she arrived in Sickbay, Selar displayed no surprise save one raised eyebrow. "Your next shift is not due to begin for another six hours, Doctor Crusher."

"We're dealing with a quarantine. Rest can wait." Beverly glanced around, examining the life signs displayed above biobeds, until her eyes fell on Nicole.

The girl lay beneath a silvery blanket; her shining dark hair spilled off one edge of the biobed. As Beverly walked closer, she noted that Nicole's breathing was deeper and slower than it had been before, and that her fever was no longer threatening to spike. "The treatment is working," she said quietly. "When did Wesley come in?"

"Approximately four and one quarter hours ago," Selar replied. "I can pull records for the exact time, if you would prefer."

"No need." Her son must have gone to Sickbay almost the moment Jean-Luc finished speaking to him. Beverly felt a pang of pride. When she saw Wes again, that was the first thing she'd say – that he'd been brave.

Somehow the conversation they had to have about his father seemed as if it would be easier to face afterward. She didn't know why.

Beverly stood over the sleeping Nicole. She strongly resembled her mother – but that sharp chin, the set of the nose – those were Jack's. _I am seeing him alive again in someone else_, she thought. Wesley's resemblance to Jack, she was used to; the sight of him in Nicole was new, fresh and powerful.

_How we wanted a daughter._

The Sickbay doors slid open. Beverly turned her head to look at whichever new patient would be walking in, and instead saw Xia.

A long silence followed, long enough for Beverly to realize that Xia knew the truth had been revealed. "Jean-Luc warned you, I see."

Xia shook her head no. "Doctor Selar told me she'd put together a treatment using paternal genetic material. Only one way that could've happened. So that's how I knew." Her glance toward her daughter was anguished; Beverly was too much of a mother not to understand that. "Is it working?"

"Yes. To judge by these readings, Nicole can probably return to your guest quarters to recover sometime tomorrow."

"Thank you." Xia's voice broke. "And I meant what I said when we spoke in the transporter room – I am so incredibly sorry."

Beverly opened her mouth, a smile of both indignation and amazement. "That's the first thing you said to me. A coded apology for the affair you had with my husband. Unbelievable."

A silence followed, broken only by the beeping and humming of her Sickbay equipment, and Selar's soft footfalls on the carpet. At least all the other patients were sound asleep; this conversation would only be witnessed by a Vulcan, which was almost as good as being alone.

When Xia spoke again, she met Beverly's eyes evenly. "I don't apologize for falling in love with Jack. That was something neither of us sought. But I should have insisted that he resolve his relationship with you before anything happened between us. I didn't. That's on me."

_Resolve his relationship with you._ In other words, Xia thought Jack would have left Beverly if he'd had the chance. The sincerity of her belief scalded Beverly, because it communicated so clearly that the idea of divorce was no mere assumption. Jack had_ told_ Xia as much. Had he been telling the truth—or telling a lie to simplify his extramarital affair? No good answer remained, no easy outs.

"I can't say I would do things differently, because if I had then Nicole wouldn't have been born, and nothing can make me regret her." Xia squared her shoulders. "But I wronged you, and I'm truly sorry."

Beverly could imagine shouting her down – _I'm saving your child's life because I care about your family more than you ever cared about mine_! Or she could take the frosty high road – _You've made your apology, and now we have nothing further to discuss. Leave._ Worst were the questions that threatened to burst out of her: _Did Jack say why he stopped loving me? Did I do something wrong? Or did I never truly know the man I loved?_

But just as Xia's first priority was Nicole, Beverly's first priority was Wes. "You have to tell Nicole the truth, sooner rather than later. My son knows about her now, and that means he'll want to reach out someday. He should be able to have an open and honest relationship with her. No more silence. No more lies."

"… I'll tell her as soon as she's fully recovered."

"That's fair. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." With that Beverly turned away and got back to being a ship's doctor. She went into her office and dove into vaccine development, determined to save the rest of the galaxy from this virulent disease. Her focus was so intent that she didn't even notice when Xia finished visiting her daughter, and walked out.

"I don't know that she'll ever forgive me." Jean-Luc paced the length of his ready room, hands clasped behind his back. "This blow has devastated her, and she blames me for it."

Counselor Deanna Troi sat in the chair in front of his desk, hands folded in her lap. "Why do you feel that way?"

"That Beverly blames me? She made it quite clear." His cheek stung with the memory of her slap.

"But why do you agree with her?"

He stopped pacing. Indignant denials faded away unspoken. "No fooling a Betazoid."

"I only wish. We make the same mistakes everyone else does. But I can tell you're deeply troubled. When you think of Beverly, you feel responsible."

Jean-Luc stared at his fishtank, where Livingston swam; why he found the sight of his pet fish so soothing was a mystery, but it usually helped. Today, however, peace of mind would be harder to come by. "She seems to believe that I chose Jack and Xia over her. Even said I 'conspired' with them against her."

"You _did_ keep his secret for quite some time, Captain."

"Why in the worlds would I tell Beverly about the affair after Jack had died?" He turned back toward Deanna. "What good could it possibly have done? I knew nothing about Xia's pregnancy. Beverly was utterly grief-stricken. To have added to her pain then would have been unconscionable. Would any time in the last fifteen years have been somehow more appropriate to share this news? I cannot see it."

Deanna tilted her head, her heavy black curls falling to one side. "Telling Beverly about this after Jack's death would have been cruel. I don't think you were wrong to keep your silence then, and I believe even Beverly will eventually agree. Yet you also kept Jack's secret while he was still alive."

"You mean, she thinks I took his side."

"Didn't you?"

"The hell I did. I told Jack he was making a terrible mistake. Over and over, I tried to convince him that his feelings for Xia were an infatuation, no more."

"And you believed you understood his emotions better than he did."

Jean-Luc could usually tell when Deanna was driving to a conclusion, especially when it was one he didn't like. But he couldn't tell where she was going with this. Wasn't the situation obvious? "Jack wasn't the sort of man to have a casual affair; if he hadn't felt strongly about Xia, he would never have acted on their attraction. I always realized that."

"Then why were you so certain he wouldn't remain with Xia?"

"Because Beverly – the treasure he had in her – leaving her was unthinkable."

Deanna's dark eyes searched his. "For whom?"

There it was. Sometimes his ship's counselor cloaked her penetrating intelligence in her soft-spoken, gentle demeanor – and sometimes, she laid you bare.

He turned to stare out the windows, unable in that first moment to meet Deanna's eyes. "You're altogether too good at this."

"How did my question make you feel?"

"Keenly observed," he said, crisp and rueful. "You realize I had no thought of ever acting upon those emotions."

"Of course." She spoke easily, as if they'd discussed his long-ago unrequited love for Beverly Crusher a thousand times, when in fact Jean-Luc had never spoken of it aloud with anyone before. "Beverly was in love with her husband, and you were a loyal friend. Loyalty is important to you."

"I despised myself for the mere thought." How small he had felt then. How foolish, and petty. A shadow of that fell over him even now, fifteen years and half a galaxy away. "When Jack strayed … my mind turned traitor. I envisioned divorces, and decent intervals. A future where Beverly would be free to choose, and I would be free to ask."

"But you weren't the sort of man to break up a friend's marriage to further your own interests. You didn't even want to consider the possibility. So you went to the other extreme, supporting Jack's marriage even longer than he did."

"We don't know that," Jean-Luc insisted. "Nor can we ever know for certain. Jack hadn't yet made his ultimate choice, and I truly believe he would have returned to Beverly. They loved each other tremendously."

"Yes, of course," Deanna said softly. Beverly must have told her so countless times.

But Jean-Luc _knew_ it. Had seen it, unable to look away even when his wretched covetousness made the images a torment: Beverly hugging Jack from behind as if his return home from leave were a miracle; Jack kissing her passionately at the edge of the transporter pad; the two of them staring into each other's eyes over dinner, pretending to listen to his awkward chit-chat while they counted the moments until they could be alone.

Deanna's soft voice broke through his reverie. "So. Out of loyalty to one friend – and some overcompensation for your private guilt – you concealed the truth from another. Beverly isn't wrong to feel hurt by that."

"No. I suppose she isn't."

"But you do realize that's not the main emotion fueling her present anger with you?"

"I'm available to be lashed out at. Jack is not. You needn't be a ship's counselor to piece that one together."

Deanna rose from her chair and came to stand by his side; in her smile he could see the kindness and patience that had seen him through the terrible aftermath of his ordeal with the Borg. Not for the first time, he gave thanks to whatever combination of Starfleet politics and fate had sent Deanna Troi to the _Enterprise_. "Captain, it may be that the kindest thing you can do for Beverly now is to bear the brunt of that anger. Apologize. Accept her reaction. Let her express the rage and hurt she feels, and trust that the friendship you share is strong enough to weather the storm."

Jean-Luc sighed, even as he managed to smile back. "Why is the best advice the hardest to take?"

Deanna shrugged. "Trade secret."

On some levels, Beverly Crusher had an incredibly successful day.

By midmorning, she'd received word that all patients on board – including Nicole – were in stable condition or better. Although some would require days or even weeks to fully recover, no more lives were endangered aboard the _Enterprise_. Furthermore, between the naturally immune and those who had acquired only light cases before being treated, the ship was now assured of not only a functional crew complement but also more than adequate nursing care for those more seriously afflicted. Although her ship remained under quarantine, Beverly knew she'd seen them through the greatest danger.

The early afternoon offered an even greater triumph: Test results proving that her tinkering with that Aldebaran virus had produced a likely vaccine. She sent the data on to Starbase 133 for further refinement and testing, and inoculated an initial batch of volunteers – including Sun Xia. Their eyes never met, even as Beverly pressed the hypospray against Xia's neck.

Of course, she could hardly celebrate her success. Her devastation felt like weight pressing on her shoulders, bearing her down. When she learned Wesley had beamed down to the surface of Hasolon IV to assist Commander T'Sara with the tectonic stabilizers, it had at first felt like a slap – her son's desertion just when she wanted him closest. But her mother's intuition swiftly told her why he'd gone. Wes both wanted and feared their next conversation, and had seized on duty as a way of delaying the worst. Young people did that. They hadn't yet learned to get the pain over with.

So she worked until her vision began to blur and even shy Alyssa Ogawa was visibly working up the nerve to tell her boss to rest. Beverly gave thanks for her exhaustion, which she assumed would bear her down to unconsciousness within minutes of reaching her cabin.

Twenty minutes of lying on her bunk and staring at the ceiling later, she knew better.

_What the hell_, she thought. _I did a pretty fantastic job today. _

_Might as well celebrate. _

When the door chimed an hour later, she answered with a cheery "Enter!"

Jean-Luc walked through the doors into her darkened cabin, so rigid she idly wondered if he'd had his uniform starched. He blinked in evident surprise at the sight of her sitting on the floor in her nightgown, bare toes pressed against the transparent aluminum of her window. Beverly simply lifted a glass to him.

"Chateau Picard," she said as the doors shut behind him. "The '47. You brought me a bottle from Earth a few months ago, remember? Tonight I figured you owed me a drink."

"Not like you to choose real wine over synthehol."

"… do you honestly think this is a good night to lecture me about regulations?"

He raised one hand, a sign of surrender. "No lectures. I promise."

Beverly shrugged. "Given the number of hours I've put in over the past three days, Starfleet regulations forbid my returning to duty until tomorrow in anything but a Level One emergency. Even then, I could get a napacin injection that would restore me to sobriety in three minutes. In other words, my dear captain, what I choose to drink is my own business."

"You're quite right. I've no room to object. After all, I gave you the bottle—and as the Vulcans say, the cause is sufficient."

Beverly remembered Jean-Luc's return to the _Enterprise_ after his brief holiday in France. They'd spent a few hours in the nearly deserted Ten-Forward that night, at a table by the window overlooking the blue Earth below. She had told him about Jack's message for Wesley, and about the memories stirred up by everything else she'd found in that box. In turn, he'd spoken of the pleasures and annoyances of his brother's traditionalism, and even the temptation posed by the Atlantis Project. The evening had been a delight—not least because it was such a relief to see Jean-Luc acting like himself again.

Yet even then he had been lying to her. Every reminiscence about Jack they'd shared had been shadowed by a truth Jean-Luc had never intended to reveal.

She held up the bottle of Chateau Picard. "Join me." When Jean-Luc hesitated, she said, "If you don't, I'll be drinking alone. Is that any way to leave a friend?"

By way of reply, Jean-Luc stepped to the replicator. "One wineglass." The shimmer of light as his glass appeared revealed the deep red of the Chateau Picard, the soft pink of her nightgown, in the instant before it faded.

Rising to her feet with only a slight wobble, she faced Jean-Luc as he crossed the room to join her. When he held out his glass, she poured lavishly. "There we go," she said, setting the bottle on the clear table nearby as she lifted her own glass to chin level. "Now for a toast to the late Jack Crusher. Friend, husband, father, lover, and … mirage."

"Beverly—"

"Tell me, Jean-Luc, how much of the man I loved was a lie?"

"Don't do this." He put his glass down as he stepped closer. "You mustn't let this destroy your memories of him. Jack loved you so very much. This single mistake didn't change that."

"_Single mistake_. You make it sound like he had a meaningless fling. Jack fell in love with another woman, one he was considering leaving me for. And no matter what you say, that changes everything."

"Not everything."

What was it about the quiet gravity of Jean-Luc's voice that affected people so? Sometimes Beverly felt as though it left her defenseless. Those two words alone had conjured older, softer memories – Jack cuddling newborn Wesley. Lying on the floor of their first home, allowing his organs to be palpated so she could practice. The look in his eyes before he'd kissed her for the first time. "No. Not everything. But it changes a lot."

"Fair enough." Jean-Luc took up his glass again and drank deeply, like a man summoning courage. "If I failed you in this, as a friend, I apologize. I told myself I was protecting you. In reality, I left you vulnerable. That was a mistake, and an injustice. You deserved better from everyone involved."

"From Jack, mostly." The stars outside seemed to be wheeling in space; the _Enterprise_'s gravity might as well have been fluctuating, tugging her from side to side. Yet Beverly remained on her feet, determined to see this through.

For the first time since he'd walked into her room, Jean-Luc's attention was drawn inward, away from her. Finally he said, "If you have any other questions you want to ask, I'll answer to the best of my ability."

"No more secrets?"

Jean-Luc paused so long Beverly nearly because suspicious—but then he said, "Anything you want to know about Jack, I'll tell you, if I can."

Did she want to know everything? Maybe not. Maybe she didn't want to hear another word.

Beverly made her way to the plush mauve sofa that lined the wall of her living quarters and sank down onto it. Her head swam. _I should really go to sleep_, she thought, glancing through the open archway that set her bedroom off from the living area. _Crawl under the covers, pull the blanket over my head and ignore reality until tomorrow morning._

But Jean-Luc was a guarded man. While she didn't doubt he would try to be honest with her regardless of when she asked, tonight presented a rare opportunity. She needed to seize the moment.

He sat beside her, brow furrowed. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Just intoxicated." Beverly forced herself to focus on him. "But not _too _intoxicated. So. The truth about Jack Crusher. Ready?"

"…yes."

"Did he have any other affairs?"

"Not that I know of, and I believe he would have told me." Jean-Luc hesitated, then added, "There was a – minor flirtation while the two of you were dating. A civilian technician on Starbase 271. But I feel certain it went no further than that, and lasted only a few weeks. Jack never stopped talking about you, and after the next time the two of you visited, I never saw the tech again."

The tech's name had been Mariska. Jack had told Beverly about the girl himself. _I kept telling myself that if I were going to sow any wild oats, this was the time,_ he'd whispered to her as they lay together in her bed. _But I didn't want to. I'd found the one for me, forever_. At the time she'd seen it as a small triumph—proof that the man she loved would always be true.

But maybe Mariska had been a sign of something else. A sign that even his first flush of love for her had not been enough to blind him to another's charms.

"So Xia was the only one." Her voice sounded strained, even to her own ears. "How long were they together?"

"Five to six months, so far as I could determine."

"Did you know from the start?"

Jean-Luc stared down into his wineglass. "When I was with the two of them early on, I sensed a certain, ah, energy. But I thought little of it. Starship crews engage in various kinds of banter, including flirtation. Most often it's meaningless."

"But not always."

Their eyes met, and Beverly wondered if he was remembering their Dixon Hill holodeck adventure—or their breakfast meetings—or the way they'd sat side by side at the last concert, shoulders brushing too many times to be entirely accidental.

"No," Jean-Luc said, his gaze still locked with hers. "Sometimes it means more."

It had for Jack and Xia. Beverly looked away. "So, when did you find out they had more than a 'flirtation'?"

"Jack came to me a week or two after they – well. After. He was distraught. But I failed to provide the sympathetic ear he wanted. We argued, he left my quarters, and we didn't speak for a few days, absent the necessities of duty."

At least Jean-Luc had fought for her. Beverly's mind had tortured her for the better part of a day with all the endearments Jack might have whispered into Xia's ear, the pleasures he'd shown her that he might have shown his lover too. But now she could imagine Jean-Luc defending her as well. It helped.

"We made it up thereafter," Jean-Luc continued. "I knew he was going through a crisis, and I didn't want to abandon him. Sometimes we need our friends most when we are furthest from our true selves. Eventually Xia spoke to me also–"

"That's right." Beverly leaned back onto the sofa, her arms stretching wide across the top. "You two were friends as well."

"Not as you and I are. Nor as Jack and I were. But she was one of my officers, and a good one."

"Did you like her?"

He nodded. "I found Xia easygoing. Enjoyable to be with."

"Did you want her for yourself?"

"…I beg your pardon?"

"Did you. Want her. I have it on good authority that she is, quote, supernova hot, unquote."

"No."

"Most men would. Plenty of women, too."

"Obviously Xia's attractive. But no, I never considered pursuing her."

That answer satisfied Beverly more than she'd anticipated. Yet it was only one small glimmer of light in a near-infinite darkness. "Did Jack ever tell you he planned to leave me?"

Jean-Luc hesitated.

She sat up straighter. "You promised me the truth."

"He told me he was considering it. Not that he planned to do it. There is a difference."

How little that difference meant, now that Beverly could never know what Jack would have chosen. He had died with his love for her occluded, confused, and to her it felt as if that were the same as if he'd died not loving her at all. "And what did you say to him?"

"That any man who would walk away from you was a fool."

Beverly took a deep breath. "Thank you."

Then there seemed to be nothing else to say. She wanted to know so much more—but none of it fell into the category of things Jean-Luc could possibly know. How much had Jack loved Xia? Had he still loved her? Had the sex been better, more passionate, more free? When they'd had a small child in the house, Beverly had wanted them to be quieter – to remain in the bedroom – and it all seemed so sensible, so harmless, but maybe to Jack it had been dull and tame …

"Beverly?" Jean-Luc leaned closer. He could sound so kind. "Are you all right?"

She laughed weakly. "Of course not."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Maybe." Her fingers closed around the hem of his uniform jacket as she tilted her face up to his. "Want to help me get revenge?"

There was something delicious about shocking Jean-Luc. That proper façade of his might conceal a lifetime's experience and sophistication – but Beverly still loved watching it crack. "I don't think – "

"Exactly. Don't think." She slid her hand up his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath her palm.

His hand covered hers, even as he shook his head. "You don't want this. Not really."

"You don't have any idea what I really want." Beverly splayed her fingers, catching his to pull his hand toward her and cradle it against her heart. "This isn't the first time I've thought about it, you know."

Jean-Luc went very still. She laughed, low and soft.

"C'mon. You've wondered about us too, haven't you? Imagined what it would be like if you took me to bed?"

Their eyes met, and it took him a few moments to answer. "Yes."

Her reaction caught her off-guard. Up until now, Beverly had been pleasantly tipsy, slightly turned on. But hearing Jean-Luc confess his desire, and finally knowing for certain that their attraction was both shared and deep – it exhilarated her. Scared her. Made her flush hot all over, and newly aware of his hand against her chest.

_Is this happening?_ Her head swam. _I think this is happening._ Her mind wasn't sure what to make of this, but her body seemed to be okay with it.

Very much so.

Jean-Luc cupped her chin in his hand. His thumb brushed along her lower lip even as he whispered, "Beverly – not like this."

It hit her like a napacin injection, or a gulp of strong black coffee: sobering, steadying, and yet tightening the tension inside. She curled her fingers around his wrist to break his touch on her face, but didn't fight it when he responded by taking her hand. "You always have to prove you know what's best for everyone," Beverly said, even as she kept her hand in his. "Never put a foot wrong, did you?"

"I've made plenty of mistakes. This week proves that, surely. But I don't think either of us would be very happy with ourselves in the morning."

"No, we probably wouldn't."

Which she'd known all along, really; she'd just felt as if she couldn't possibly make her situation any worse. Yet she didn't want to risk her friendship with Jean-Luc, even now when it was strained – and least of all for hollow revenge against a dead man.

Still, she was in no mood to let him walk away easily. "Do you have to be so damned responsible all the time?"

"If I'd had more of the wine, you might well have learnt the answer to that question."

Beverly folded her arms in front of her as she flopped back onto the sofa, breaking the contact between them. "It wouldn't have fixed anything anyway."

"No." The silence stretched into awkwardness once more. "Is there anything more you want to know?"

"Nothing you can tell me." The impact of Jack's affair with Xia, and the child it had produced, would continue to reverberate through her life for a long time. Forever, probably. Its essential mystery – what had been within Jack's heart at the end – was unsolvable, by Beverly, Jean-Luc, Xia, or anyone else. She had to begin the long work of learning how to live without those answers.

Jean-Luc touched her shoulder, just for a second, then rose to leave. He straightened his jacket, which had been rumpled by the moments they'd nearly embraced, and she took some satisfaction in noticing that he was breathing hard, still unfocused.

_Oh, I got you_, she thought.

Just as he walked toward the doors, Beverly said, "You'll ask yourself whether you should have stayed."

She expected him to shift back into formality, to be amusingly stiff and flustered now that he was trying to shift back into "captain mode." Or maybe he would remain warm and comforting, determined to smooth over the evening's rough edges no matter what.

Instead, Jean-Luc's voice sounded ragged as he said, "No doubt."

As her cabin doors slid open and shut, Beverly took satisfaction in the knowledge Jean-Luc Picard would be thinking about her all night long.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five 

_Captain's Log, Stardate 44191.6: Now that some members of the crew and the visiting scientific team are cleared to leave the ship, I will be beaming down to Hasolon IV to join in the relief efforts. With the medical crisis on board resolving itself, in large part due to the extraordinary efforts of Chief Medical Officer Beverly Crusher, the Enterprise can at last resume its mission. _

Data cocked his head, a gesture that invariably meant curiosity, and questions. "Captain, you would not have beamed to the surface if you were infected with the virus, and yet your physical condition appears less than ideal. To be specific, you appear pale, and your response time is slightly but perceptibly slower than usual."

"I didn't get enough sleep, Data. That's all." Jean-Luc had no intention of explaining why he'd lain awake all night. They walked side-by-side through the main corridor of the Hasolon Ministry of Science, which was functioning as headquarters for the relief efforts. "Progress report?"

"The simulations have been successful. We have managed to stabilize the most seismically active fault line on the northern continent, and now that the full scientific team has joined us on the surface, the full array of tectonic stabilizers can be deployed."

"Well done, Mr. Data." Jean-Luc reminded himself to put Data in for a commendation; sometimes he found himself taking the android's service for granted. But while some of Data's contributions were no more than his natural workings – his eidetic memory, cross-referencing ability, and such – others showed the spark of humanity within. His idea of serving as a virtual-reality link between the quarantined scientists and Hasolon IV had been inspired.

When Jean-Luc had taken his seismology and volcanology course at the Academy, he'd heard it said that fault lines created both great dangers and great scenery. Hasolon IV bore that out. Through the enormous transparent aluminum windows that lined this long corridor, he could see rugged mountains capped with snow, soft rolling hills and, in the distance, a rocky coastline that would look spectacular from sea. The world also possessed a temperate climate, verdant deciduous forests and a pleasingly lilac-blue sky. He had at first wondered why people had set out to colonize a world with such severe tectonic activity; now he knew.

_Beverly should see this. We could take a brief walk along one of the coastal paths – _Then Jean-Luc caught himself. The casual shore leave activities they'd shared in the past were, at the very least, on hold.

When he and Data entered the temporary command center, the relative darkness of the room made him squint for the moment until his eyes adjusted. Dozens of computer terminals filled the cavernous space, each of them glowing dull gold or green. Jean-Luc could make out a couple dozen Hasolonian colonists – distinctive, with their blue skin and ridged heads – as well as most of the Starfleet scientific team. At the very front of the room, silhouetted by the largest viewscreen, stood Commander T'Sara; the image behind her showed the plates of Hasolon IV's crust, with active fault lines outlined in orange. Although many lines remained at high alert, others had been downgraded already.

"I'd feel better if they stopped the plate movement entirely," groused one Hasolonian nearby. "No more shakes, ever."

It was intended as a joke, and after months of increasing seismological activity, these people certainly deserved a moment to laugh and relax. But the would-be scientist in Jean-Luc – the one who had been tempted by the Atlantic Project for reasons beyond his psychological need for escape – mentally corrected the man all the same. _A certain amount of tectonic activity is necessary on any planet with a mantle. The heat and pressure within the planet can be relieved in no other way. We only strive to find the place between cataclysmic destruction and fatal stagnation. To move so far, so fast, and yet no more. _

_Besides, without earthquakes, we would never have mountains. _

"Captain Picard?" Wesley Crusher came to Jean-Luc's side, a padd in hand. "Commander T'Sara had me put together this report. She thinks we can have Hasolon IV well within safety parameters within the next twenty to forty hours."

"Excellent news, Ensign." He studied the information on the padd, never once glancing up at Wesley's face. "You've done fine work here. Now that we have sufficient crew to relieve you, there's no reason for you not to return to the _Enterprise_."

"I – " Apparently Wesley couldn't find another word to follow it, until he finally, quietly said, "Yes, sir."

Jean-Luc did look up then. "You'll find there's little use in delaying the inevitable, Ensign Crusher. Suspense is no man's friend."

"Yes, sir."

With that, Jean-Luc went back to his scientific review. Wes needed to be treated like the young officer he was, at least by his captain. Mother and son could comfort one another – or, at least, he hoped they would. While he'd known at least some of how this would affect each of the Crushers individually, Jean-Luc could not imagine what it would mean between them. Fortunately, that matter was theirs to navigate; he could, and should, stand aside.

For a moment he found himself remembering the Jack Crusher he'd first met. Hardly more than a boy, really – five years older than Wesley was now? Six? They'd been friends for only a few days before Jean-Luc knew that this was someone who would be important in his life, someone he would move heaven and earth for.

Fifteen years after Jack's death, Jean-Luc had done his friend one final favor, the last there would ever be. Their friendship was complete.

Strange, that this should still feel like a loss.

Jean-Luc closed his eyes for a moment, took a breath, and got back to work.

_None of the sex, all of the regret,_ Beverly thought as she made her way back to Sickbay that morning.

The dull headache she'd awakened with had been easily taken care of with napacin. The embarrassment she'd feel when she saw Jean-Luc again – well, that wouldn't be as simple to manage. Fortunately, duty promised to keep them apart for the day.

"We are down to only twenty percent incapacitation," Doctor Selar reported as Beverly checked the morning medical logs. "And the majority of those still affected now report milder symptoms. Only Lieutenant Juarez remains in Sickbay, primarily for fetal monitoring."

"Good." Her fingers paused over her padd. "Sun Nicole?"

"Was released to her mother's care at oh six hundred hours." Selar's face was as blank as an inactive holodeck. _Everyone should get to recover from a breakdown in the company of Vulcans_, Beverly decided, almost in earnest. _Maybe I should ask about a sabbatical at the medical college in Shi'Kahr. _

The holodeck doors slid open, and her gut tensed. Would they have a relapsed patient? A second wave of the crisis? But it was Wesley, weary and with an honest-to-god dusting of stubble on his cheeks.

"Wes? Are you all right?" When he nodded, she sighed in relief.

Though of course she knew he had not come here because he was sick.

They went into her office and sealed the door. Beverly ordered two cups of tea from the replicator, primarily so she didn't have to look Wesley in the face as she said, "I know Captain Picard talked to you."

"Yeah. He did."

There. Now that she didn't have to worry about blushing over Jean-Luc's name, she could turn her attention back to her son, where it belonged. As she put his cup of tea in front of him, she said, "You were very brave, to handle things the way you did."

Wesley shrugged. He'd been able to face medical testing more easily than his own mother. Oh, teenage boys.

She continued, "You must have a lot of questions. Unfortunately, so do I. And there aren't any easy answers."

Wes shrugged. "It's weird. On one hand – it reminds me that I never really got to know Dad. Not as a person. Because I keep thinking, _This isn't like him_, but I guess it must have been."

"I didn't think it was like him either," she confessed. "Nobody ever knows anyone else completely, I think. Not even the people we love best. For what it's worth, though, apparently it was a … singular mistake."

"That's what Captain Picard said. He told me Dad wasn't going to get a divorce or anything. That he loved you, always."

For one instant, Beverly misidentified the _he_ in that sentence. "Ah. Well." She tucked a lock of her red hair behind one ear to steady herself. "The captain might be right. He was probably the best friend Jack ever had. But we're never going to know for sure. What we have to do now is learn to live without knowing."

"It's not fair," Wes said quietly. "You shouldn't have to lose him twice."

You could love your child so much it hurt, actual physical pain cleaving through your heart; Beverly felt it then, when she realized her son had worried about her pain more than his own. She reached across her desk to take his hand. "I still have the best of him, because I have you. Okay?"

"Okay."

Later that day, in Deanna Troi's quarters, Beverly leaned back in her chair and tried to describe that delicate, heart-wrenching moment. "Wesley even tried to smile for me. I've always wanted to be the strong one for him, but this time, it went the other way around."

"As you've said before, you and Wes are making a transition. You're treating him more as an adult than as a child." Deanna took two mugs from the replicator and set one in front of Beverly. "In this situation, he acted like an adult. I imagine that helped him – being able to feel that he could do something for you, instead of passively accepting difficult news."

"I hope so." Beverly lifted the mug to her lips. Deanna believed no problem was so terrible that hot chocolate couldn't help. There _was _something comforting about the stuff. "We haven't talked about his future contact with Nicole yet. I know he'll want that, and Xia's open to it, but I can't deny it's going to be hard for me." Would Nicole come to Wesley's Starfleet Academy graduation? His wedding? Would Beverly have to see Jack and Xia's daughter playing with her grandchildren?

Though of course they would be Jack's grandchildren too …

"That's in the future," Deanna said gently. "Let's talk about the present. We've discussed what this has meant for you as a mother. What does it mean for you as an individual?"

Beverly stared down at her hands curved around the mug, concentrated on the heat against her fingers. "I feel like such a fool."

"Why so? You could hardly have been expected to guess what Jack was up to, with as little time and evidence as you were given."

"It's not that."

"Do you doubt Jack's love for you?" Deanna's dark eyes were troubled. "Whatever happened in the final six months of your relationship doesn't negate everything that went before."

"Maybe, maybe not." _And I'll never know. Maybe Jack himself never knew for sure. _"But what gets to me isn't what happened before Jack died. It's how I've lived ever since."

"Interesting," Deanna said, which was code for _keep talking._

Seeking words, Beverly began, "It's not as though I didn't know Jack had flaws. I was his wife, for God's sake, I'd seen his bad side. He could be – quick-tempered. Pessimistic. Impulsive. He never would pick up after himself, and he snored like Direllian bagpipes, and he always prioritized his career before mine. Oh, he'd take my work into account when I called him on it, but I always had to call him on it." She sighed. "In other words, he was no more or less flawed than the average human being. But somewhere in the past fifteen years, I managed to convince myself that I had lost the perfect man, and the perfect love."

"We all tend to idealize the dead." Deanna sipped her own hot chocolate. "It's a natural response to loss. We forget the trivia and remember what was most important – and for the people we love most, the most important memories are the best."

Beverly knew this, but also knew her case differed from the "natural" reaction. "But I've spent all this time telling myself that I would never fall in love like that again. That it was impossible, because I could search the entire galaxy and never find another man like Jack Crusher. And that no man could ever love me as deeply as he did."

This got no response from Deanna except "Mm." Counselors knew all too well when to remain silent.

"I forgot so many things about Jack – the foibles and mistakes that made him _him._ At some point, I stopped remembering the very real man who was my husband, and started … worshipping a plaster saint."

Deanna smiled softly. "And now, at last, you have the real Jack Crusher back again."

Beverly hadn't thought of it in those terms, but on some level it was true. Her reminiscences of Jack these past few days had been varied, confusing, even torturous – but they had been _real_. She had revisited the tenor of her relationship with Jack, had gone over memories besides the best ones, which of course were the ones she'd revisited so many times over the years that she'd polished away every imperfection. The real memories had texture. Vitality. Truth. She could again recall what it had been like in their little apartment on Alphacent, with Wesley wailing his way through teething and Jack trying to distract their baby by singing to him off-key, while she tried to cook real food (spaghetti? Lasagna? Something Italian-) and failed miserably. The community cat would sometimes find its way onto their balcony, and Jack would scratch its ears as they sat out there, drinking cheap wine and trying to convince themselves they weren't too exhausted to make love.

Those were the moments that mattered. The stuff a shared lifetime was made of. Beverly was happy to have them back again.

Still – "I'm also aware that to some extent I've used my widowhood as an excuse not to risk my heart again." Beverly gave her friend a look. "And you've tried to call me on it, though I pretended not to understand."

Deanna shook her head in mock-disbelief. "Why do people try to fool an empath?"

Beverly had to laugh. "I know, I know."

"So, if you won't be using that as an excuse any longer – does that mean you're ready to risk your heart once more?"

"Not so soon after learning this about Jack." It was a different kind of heartbreak, one that would require its own recovery. "But I always believed I'd never come to care about anyone else that much again. That it was impossible. And now I don't know if that's true any longer."

"Our hearts hold an almost infinite capacity for healing, and for love."

"Um, to change the subject – " Beverly's eyes drifted down to the floor. "The captain and I … had words about all this. When he first told me about Jack's affair, I lost it. I'm not sure I've ever been that furious in my life."

"Captain Picard understands you were hurting. Surely he wouldn't hold your anger against you."

Last night's memories surfaced from the blur of wine: Jean-Luc holding her hand, running his thumb along her lower lip, and gazing into her eyes as he admitted he wanted her. "It got a little more complicated than that."

To Beverly's surprise, Deanna seemed completely unfazed. "Your relationship with the captain began a long time ago. The friendship you share has had its ups and downs before, and it will again. Anything you've said or done over the past couple of days doesn't matter nearly as much as what happens between you from now on."

It wasn't as if Jean-Luc would act upon the things they'd said last night – at least, not if she didn't encourage him to do so. Since the warp core would freeze before she'd open another bottle of Chateau Picard alone, Beverly didn't think she'd be throwing herself at her commanding officer again anytime soon. So they were fine, really. They could go back to business as usual –

\- no. They could go on from here perfectly well, but it would not be like before. Beverly knew that much already.

She said, "I feel as if our friendship has been changed, forever."

"It has been," Deanna replied. "But sometimes change is for the better. Up until now, I think you've both triangulated your relationship through Jack. You've never been able to move on from the grief, and perhaps he's never been able to let go of his guilt. That may no longer be true for either of you."

"Perhaps." Beverly remembered that damn fool business when Jean-Luc had tried to block her from the posting on the _Enterprise. _The secrets he'd carried for Xia, and the blame he'd attributed to them both instead of Xia alone, had led him to push her away. In turn, she had responded not by straightforwardly confronting him as a fellow officer, but with the unspoken hurt of a damaged woman. She liked to think they were both better than that. Their mistakes were what came of living in the past.

From now on, Beverly could no longer see her relationship with Jean-Luc solely through the prism that called him Jack's friend, and herself Jack's widow. They would redefine their roles in each other's lives, and that was a process that didn't have to happen overnight. They could take their time, figure it out.

As for the frisson of attraction between them – she'd deal with that later.

"You're free now in a way you haven't been before," Deanna said. "Take your time. Heal from the hurt you've felt. But once you're ready, claim your freedom, and discover where it takes you. I think you might be surprised by your potential for joy."

It had not occurred to Beverly that she _didn't_ believe in finding joy for herself until Deanna spoke the words. Her throat tightened as she realized she'd treated the past fifteen years, and the undefined future, as no more than … denouement.

_That's no way to lead a life_, Beverly thought. _Time for Act Two to begin. _

Within another twenty-four hours, the crew infection rates had dropped again. While the ship was not yet fit for another mission, it would be possible to travel to the nearby planet Criotia – a well-developed world with ample medical facilities. Jean-Luc expected his crew to spend a few days bouncing back from the illness that would've been so dire without Beverly's hard work; for his own part, he anticipated several secure-channel conversations with Starfleet Command about the Romulans, not to mention the potential signing of the long-negotiated peace treaty with the Cardassian Empire. The next weeks and months promised to be diplomatically challenging –

\- _on more than one front_, he thought, thinking of Beverly.

But no. His CMO was both a professional and a master of compartmentalization. Jean-Luc understood her well enough to know she would pull back after this, probably farther than ever before. That distance need not affect their ability to serve together.

As for their friendship – hopefully she would forgive him soon. Until then, Jean-Luc could do little but follow Counselor Troi's advice and allow Beverly the anger she needed to heal.

Before the Enterprise could leave for Criotia, the entire scientific team had to be settled into their temporary postings on Hasolon IV. Most of them had already left the ship with their belongings, but the final visiting officer was only now departing.

She had needed to wait until her daughter was well enough to travel.

"What does that even mean?" Nicole said groggily as she leaned on her mother's arm. "It's not like you have to be especially healthy to beam down anywhere. You don't even have to be _alive_."

"But you don't require any more medical treatment, which means we can finally move on." Xia smiled down at her daughter with all the love and gratitude that came from recovering someone believed lost.

Once, Jean-Luc had been so angry with Xia for her part in Jack's affair. Only now could see that his wrath had really been directed inward; he'd despised Xia for loving Jack because she mirrored his own secret love for Beverly. If Xia's behavior had been more irresponsible – had Jean-Luc's not been more dishonest? He still believed in the rightness of his discretion, but no longer thought such lines were clear-cut.

Of maybe he was simply too happy to see Jack Crusher's features reflected in another face, happy enough to forgive an affair just because it had brought Nicole into the world.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you," he said to the girl. "I'm only sorry we didn't get a chance to get to know each other better."

"I _know_. You were going to tell me all the stories about Mom when she was young and irresponsible!" Nicole smiled. "Next time?"

There might well be a next time, Jean-Luc realized – though it would be more likely Nicole would want to ask him about her father. "Certainly," he said. "I look forward to it."

Xia helped Nicole onto the platform, then stepped back down to make sure their things were correctly packed. Jean-Luc remained by the doors, close enough that they stayed open. In a low voice, Xia said, "Thanks for being willing to talk to her."

"Of course."

"I guess you'd always want to be there for the child of a friend."

"The child of _two_ friends."

Slowly, crookedly, Xia managed to smile. "I'm glad you feel that way."

Jean-Luc clasped her hand in both of his. "None of us should be judged solely by our weakest moment."

Xia squeezed his hand in return, then went to the transporter pad. Nicole looked rather wan despite her protests earlier; she'd paid no attention to their conversation, and simply sighed in relief as her next journey with her mother began.

Chief O'Brien's hands moved across the console. The transporter beam shimmered into being, and Jean-Luc looked at Nicole – at the shadow of Jack he could glimpse within her – for the instant before she vanished.

He lingered for a few seconds, lost in thought, until O'Brien ventured, "Can I help you, sir?"

"No, no. As you were, chief."

Jean-Luc walked into the corridor, straightened his uniform jacket – and saw Beverly standing there, hands in the pockets of her blue medical coat. Instinctively he knew she'd been there throughout his farewell to Xia.

"Beverly." He searched for the right words. "Ah, Sun Xia and Nicole have left the ship."

"So I heard," Beverly replied, ducking her head slightly. "Glad to know you don't believe in judging people solely by their weakest moments."

At that, the tightness inside his chest loosened, and he felt as if he could breathe again around her. "If you won't judge me by mine."

"The wine –"

"You weren't yourself – "

They spoke simultaneously, broke off at the same moment, and then each smiled in fully mutual embarrassment and relief. When Beverly turned to walk along the corridor, Jean-Luc fell into step beside her, aware they wouldn't raise the question of last night again.

_One step forward, two steps back_, he thought. _Always the same._

And yet he could not escape the sense that their close call the night before, and the greater implications of these unearthed secrets, might truly have changed something between him and Beverly Crusher forever.

For the better or for worse? Only time would tell.

""What's next for you?" he said as they walked down the corridor together, to fill the time and to speak with her as a captain to his CMO for a change.

She answered in kind. "I've sent off my findings to Starbase 133, and I expect to spend a good portion of the next few days working with them on a more powerful version of the inoculation. This one is effective, but we want to protect against any further mutations of the virus."

Jean-Luc nodded, pleased at the swift resolution of what could have been a far more serious, pan-sector crisis. Beverly's quick thinking had saved many lives, both on the _Enterprise_ and beyond it.

Before he could say so, however, she hit the control for the turbolift and added, "After I'm done working on this virus, I'm going to turn my attention to – Act Two."

"Your theater group?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Hm. That's part of it." The lift doors swished open, and Beverly glanced at him over her shoulder as she stepped inside. "As for the rest – we'll see."

Jean-Luc would've liked to ask what she meant, but knew he would receive no answer. As the doors shut again, she gave him a farewell nod; he saw in her eyes a flicker of her usual vitality and wit. While he knew she was still hurting, he also knew that the broken person he'd glimpsed in the past couple of days was gone. Beverly was back. His Beverly. For now that was enough.

Maybe later, he'd learn just what she meant by "Act Two."

THE END


End file.
